


Clinging to reality

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This dimension is nothing like his, and just when he thinks he has seen it all, it has to drop something like this on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clinging to reality

“I’ll have Ratchet check you over, just in case.”

“Thanks.”

Prime gave me a sideways glance before shaking his helm. “Your world must be strange indeed.” He didn’t elaborate as we entered the medbay, a sharp bark of Ratchet’s designation causing a purple and silver helm to appear around a corner. “Ah, First Aid, tell Ratchet I have a mech I want him to look over.”

“Sure, sure.” The Protectobot agreed as he swept his gaze over me. “Right now?”

“Right now.” Prime confirmed before turning on his heel. “I’ll have a mech waiting outside for you. And Aid, tell Ratchet, absolutely no modifications.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, hop up.” First Aid said as the door slid shut behind Prime. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

Hop up indeed. I never through I’d find myself missing Ratchet’s, _my_ Ratchet’s, medbay. I chose the cleanest looking berth and jumped up to perch on the edge, trying no to think about the dried puddles coating the surface that had spilled over the sides to create a pool of viscous fluid on the floor. The rest of the room wasn’t much better, grime coating the walls alongside graffiti left by past patients, all except for one patch of wall which stood out, the rack of polished medical instruments gleaming in the lights.

“Like this?” First Aid’s voice floated out of the side-room, and at least some things in this dimension were still the same; the curiosity in the Protectobots question and the approval in Ratchet’s tone as he answered.

“Yes, exactly like that.” I think in a way I’d have been more surprised if Aid hadn’t been Ratchet’s apprentice.

“Oooooh.”

The exclamation was followed by a clang of metal striking metal and Ratchet’s growl. “Don’t move.”

I frowned as I slid off the berth, grimacing as stale energon splashed over my feet, curiosity prompting me to find out what Ratchet was teaching, since cleanliness obviously wasn’t on the syllabus.

Approaching the door I damped down my electromagnetic field as much as I could, I really didn’t want them to notice me spying.

That...

They...

But...

I back-pedalled as quietly as I could, cutting power to my vocaliser before I gave myself away. That was most definitely _not_ a medical technique.

Slinking back to the berth I considered cutting power to my audio receivers, before deciding that it would leave me far too vulnerable, instead I started humming some human made tune that Blaster was constantly playing to try and drown out the sounds from the office.

“Alright, let’s have a look at you.” It took all my willpower to remain where I was as Ratchet finally emerged from his office, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, First Aid following in his wake and casually ducking as the rag was tossed over a dark turquoise shoulder.

The unexpected prickle of high level scans washing over my frame made me twitch, both medics giving me dark looks as they had to start again. “Sit still or I’ll make sure you can’t move.” Ratchet growled after I messed up the second scan by shifting again, one deep maroon hand casually stroking over a metal cuff attached to the berth. A quick glance around confirmed that every berth had them and I shook my helm, locking my joints into position. “Pity.” Ratchet said as First Aid looked crestfallen.

“Well, you look to be fine. Your ember is giving strange readings, but I’ll guess that has to do with the different dimensions.”

“Ember?” Ratchet moved forward, tapping two fingers against my chest plates before I leant backwards, not so much because I was intimidated by his sheer mass and his assessing scarlet optics watching my every move, but because I knew exactly where those fingers had been not too long ago.

“We call it a spark.” I said, almost wilting in relief as he backed off a step.

“Weird name. Anyway, I could give you a couple of upgrades while you’re here. I think you’d look good with a set of shoulder spines.” The fingers were back, tracing across one shoulder strut and over to my back plating as I tried to duck out from underneath them.

I was still trying desperately to think of a way to turn down the clearly deranged version of Ratchet when First Aid spoke up “Prime said no modifications.”

“We could make them poisoned.” One green arm slid around First Aid’s shoulders, curling around his neck to trace the gaps between his armour as First Aid’s optical band brightened before abruptly dimming as he span around to press himself into Ratchet’s bigger frame.

“Prime said **_absolutely_** no modifications.” Ratchet huffed, his armour flaring in indignation before settling down again. I was glad to see that Prime’s orders held some sort of sway over him. Or possibly that was just First Aid distracting him.

Definitely Aid distracting him, I amended as the groping got more inappropriate and neither of them gave me any more attention. I slid off the berth and inched around them, ignoring Ratchet’s low hiss as I brushed against Aid on my way past.

Seriously. Possessive much? What did he think I was going to do? Steal away with a not quite all there First Aid.

Glancing back from the doorway to freedom one last time I had to reset my optics. But no, I was still seeing the same thing: Ratchet watching indulgently as First Aid jammed a stim coding stick into one of his own dataports.

“Well.” A sharper, more angular Jazz was leaning against the wall opposite medbay, “They anything like yours?”

I couldn’t quite suppress the shudder that vibrated my plating for a moment. “Nowhere near.” _Thank Primus_ I added in my own processor as something crashed against the doors, Jazz chuckling at my flinch. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at my Ratchet and First Aid in the same way again.


End file.
